Dragonzord
by ZeoRangerFive
Summary: Harry Potter has lived in Angel Grove with his aunt, uncle and cousin for the majority of his life after his parents "got blown up in a car crash" but what will happen when the nemesis of the legendary Power Rangers set their eyes upon him?


A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.

This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome.

He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something.

He didn't seem to realize he was being watched.

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.

He clicked it again-the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak.

"Mraow!"

He looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, ""I should have known that you would be here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes.

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore." faltered Professor McGonagall as he set off down the street toward number two-one-seven. "Are the rumors true, Albus?"

"I'm afraid so, Professor. The good," he pressed on, "and the bad."

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "And the boy?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.

"Hagrid is bringing him."

"Do you think it —wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"Ah, Professor. I would trust Hagrid with my life." said Dumbledore.

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky-and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so _wild- _long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Professor McGonagall."

"No problems I trust Hagrid?"said Dumbledore, sounding relieved.

"No, sir-little tyke fell asleep just as we were flyin' over the ocean."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Try not ter wake him. There yeh go."

Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Albus, do you really think it safe, leaving him with these people?" cried Professor McGonagall, and pointing at number seven. "I've watched them all day. They're the worst sort of Muggles imaginable. They really are-"

"-the only family he has."said Dumbledore firmly.

"This boy will be famous." said Professor McGonagall faintly, "There won't be a child in our world who doesn't know his name."

"Exactly. He's far better off growing up away from all of that." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "Until he is ready."

Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"There, there, Hagrid. It's not really goodbye, after all." said Dumbledoren as he stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two.

_"Mr and Mrs V. Dursley,_  
_217_,  
_Angel Grove,_  
_Los Angeles"_

For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Good luck, Harry Potter," he murmured.


End file.
